


I needed to hear that

by borislegasov



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Confessions, Cute, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borislegasov/pseuds/borislegasov
Summary: Boris finds something out that changes his life forever, but Valery tries to run away from the truth in fear that his feelings are unrequited (they aren't). Boris eventually manages to get him alone to tell him the truth.
Relationships: Valery Legasov & Boris Shcherbina, Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	I needed to hear that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlboxes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlboxes/gifts).



> This work was created based on a prompt over on tumblr, and it sort of ran away from me.

It had been two weeks since Valery had told Boris that he loved him. Two agonising weeks, filled with stress and impossible decisions that he’d been forced to make. Two weeks since he’d smashed a phone to smithereens, angered at being lied to by the state. Two  _ whole _ weeks of pretending like nothing had shifted between the two that things hadn’t suddenly altered from comradely friendship to a feeling so intense it took his breath away. His emotions were finally coming to a boil yet again, simmering to the top, showing little signs of depleting; mostly due to being unable to say it back to the insufferable scientist. The man had turned and fled the room before he could even react, leaving him dumbfounded, confused and remarkably  _ angry _ . He had failed to understand  _ why _ it had happened, but couldn’t get the younger man on his own to ask him about what it meant. Whether he meant it, or whether it was a heat of the moment thing. Though on reflection he could hardly remember there being a  _ moment  _ between them. Things had been so normal…

_ ~ two weeks ago ~  
  
_

Boris watched with a wry smile as Valery removed his suit jacket, haphazardly flinging it onto a nearby chair. It draped over it wonkily, but no mind was thrown to it by either men. He stared with further intent when he collapsed down onto the rigid sofa, his entire body resting atop the firm cushions. The man looked positively exhausted, nearly close enough to pass out if he weren’t watched carefully, and so he continued to look at him intensely, his gaze almost a glare, watching raptly as he stretched his legs out as far as he could, reclining against the arm of the sofa with an elongated sigh. It was a powerful sigh; one that reverberated straight into Boris’s soul — he believed then that he had never resonated with a sound more, the wordless expression a magnitude of accuracy that he couldn’t have portrayed.

“Come and sit down,” Valery broke the lingering silence between them, his voice gravelly. 

Boris found no reason to resist complying. He shed his own suit jacket, resting it against the back of a chair in a neat fashion, quickly reaching over to straighten Valery’s up also. He didn’t want him to have to walk around with the younger man the next day whilst he was wearing a suit crinkled to all hell. The suits were bad enough as they were; a wooden Soviet-fit, one of three choices, untailored (Boris considered himself wildly lucky since he filled out his one-size fits all suit rather well), hiding the inevitable beauty of the body beneath - the shapely curves, the ample bottom, the delicious muscular thighs... His movements faltered suddenly as the thought swam through his mind, lingering, leaving an unpleasant burn behind it. His breath had caught painfully in his chest and he forced it out the best he could, though it escaped as a pained, raspy gasp. He had never considered that he might feel such a way about the younger man, but the thought had come to mind so quickly that it was all-too difficult to face the apparent feelings head-on. They bombarded him, creating a rigid wall around his heart, forcing him to acknowledge them. Perhaps he had been too stubborn, too difficult, and hadn’t allowed himself to feel such things — after all, relationships between two men had always been forbidden, the ramifications of such endeavours didn’t bear thinking about. But yet, thanks to one single realisation he was suddenly re-evaluating his entire stance on the world. He had been lonely for far too long, frightened to embrace who he truly was, scared to pursue anything out of pure fear of losing everything. But yet, in this place where death was inevitable, it seemed less of a risk to take. 

“Boris?” The voice of Valery brought him out of his reverie and he stumbled from it quickly, shaking his head as if to shirk the thought from his mind. He cleared his throat, raising a hand to hastily run it through his hair with a long exhale. 

“Sorry. Think I slipped away for a second there,” he tried to laugh it off but the laugh felt and sounded remarkably weak, forced, and liable to crack. He didn’t allow it to continue for too long in fear of it becoming transparent, instead opting for pure silence as he crossed the room, sinking to occupy the other sofa in the room with a grunt. 

He said nothing as he sat across from Valery, a comfortable silence falling between them as it often did. They had remained seated for hours on frequent occasions, doing nothing but simply existing, enjoying the cherished moments of peace and quiet that they were rarely given. They had immediately found comfort in one another, though neither had verbally approached it, and part of that comfort came from simply  _ being _ with one another in pure silence, the knowledge of the other’s presence meaning more than he’d dare admit. His thoughts strayed again as he succumbed to the silence, sinking into the cushions of the sofa with ease, stretching his legs out in front of him, placing his hands atop his lower torso as he did. He wondered if maybe their amiable silences  _ meant _ something. Whether it meant something that they could be together in such peaceful silence without worrying or feeling pressure to talk to one another. Whether being at ease with Valery was a sign that there was something  _ more _ from each of them… He couldn’t tell if he was imagining such eventualities because he  _ wanted _ them to be true, or whether they were in fact true. He chanced a glance at Valery who was looking peaceful, reclined handsomely into the sofa, stretched out as if the furniture was made for him, before he tilted his head against the back of the sofa, exhaling deeply, his chest expanding with the force of the breath. 

Minutes passed, and soon darkness had completely swamped the room. Valery was the first one to move, practically jumping up to turn on a light. He remained stood by the light switch for longer than was entirely necessary, simply staring at it thoughtfully, his eyebrows knit together in the centre as an almighty frown darkened his features. His lower lip slipped out and covered his top in a powerful pout, so intense that he wondered briefly if the younger man was angry about something. 

“Boris,” Valery began, turning on his heel. 

“Yes?” He asked in response after a few beats, the silence uncomfortable now that there were unspoken words loitering. 

“I need to tell you something.” He took a small step, timid, his legs trembling considerably at the knee. 

Boris furrowed his brow but sat up, eager to find out what truth this brilliantly infuriating man was holding in his heart. “What is it?” He asked, his voice unintentionally harsh. “You know you can tell me anything, Valery.” He added in a gentler tone, not wishing to deter him. 

What appeared to be an agony filled expression swept over those usually smooth, gentle features and suddenly it seemed like he might cry. Startled, Boris stood from the sofa and made to cross the room to close the gap between them. He didn’t like the look on his face, the intensity of it was remarkable and the sheer emotion emanating from him palpable. “Valery, you can tell me.” He repeated the sentiment again as he halted his movements just in front of him, their slight height difference seemingly larger than he remembered. He looked down at him with what he hoped was a gentle gaze. 

“It’s—” The wait was agonising. He didn’t normally have so much trouble getting his words out. But maybe this was different? Perhaps what he needed to say was momentous? His body reeled as he waited, each second ticking by with tortuous delay. His eager eyes followed the movement of his tongue as it darted over his lips, not once but twice, quickly becoming hypnotised by it. “It’s not something I should be saying, really…” another pause, this one even more painful than the last somehow. “Especially not to you. I shouldn’t be saying this to you.” 

His brow furrowed then and an unfair surge of anger pushed through him to the forefront of his mind. “Why not?” He asked sternly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. The question was immediately met with babbling, stumbled attempts at words, but the attempt was mostly meagre. 

“No— I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t trust you. It’s just that… What I’m about to say could change everything. Could ruin everything.” A pause, stagnant and cold. “I—” another pause, a shuddery breath. “I— Boris. I think. Well. I don’t  _ think. _ I  _ know _ . But…” another pause, each one worse than the last. Boris bounced from foot to foot, impatience wrecking havoc inside along with the unrelenting desire to be able to read the infuriating man’s thoughts. “Rather stupidly, here of all places…” a sharp laugh, swamped with self-deprecating humour; he’d heard it before when the brilliant-minded man made a mistake. “I’ve fallen in love with you.” 

_ ~ end flashback ~ _

His thoughts were disturbed abruptly by the penetrative, shrill sound of the phone ringing. His eyes widened beneath the onslaught of the sound, ears ringing, but he schooled his expression into something harder - his game face, he liked to think. He waited for it to ring thrice before leaning forward in the chair he’d been occupying for hours now, removing it from the base unit and straight up to his ear in one fluid motion, without a single ounce of hesitation in his movements. 

“Shcherbina,” he spoke smoothly down the line, wincing at the crackly connection that responded immediately; it seemed that he still hadn’t quite come around from his intense daydreaming. 

“Comrade Shcherbina.” His body language relaxed considerably at the realisation that it was only Pikalov - someone he didn’t really need to put up a front for and could appear as tired as he really felt. He remained silent as he waited to find out what had inevitably gone wrong this time, a shiver of bitterness rippling throughout him. 

“We are awaiting delivery of tools for the miners to get to work properly, so you are not needed at the site this afternoon as originally planned. I phoned to inform you of such plans, but also to enquire whether you are able to receive Comrade Legasov. I dispatched him from the site a little over ten minutes ago and he should be with you soon. He insisted that he would be fine working, that he didn’t want to impose on you-” Boris almost laughed at that. 

Of  _ course _ he didn’t want to spend any time with him; he’d been avoiding him expertly since the confession. He was hardly going to turn him away now, was he? This was the perfect chance to be able to communicate with him openly without something conveniently cropping up to take his attention away from the matter at hand - and he could hardly think of an opportunity more fitting to rectify the apparent issues that had unwittingly formed between them — or perhaps it  _ was _ purposeful on Valery’s part? He wondered for a moment, but shook himself out of it as quickly as it had begun - it was time to see to this for once and for all. A slight smug smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as he realised that he would finally be able to corner Valery into telling him the truth, regardless of whether that meant his heart would be crushed or… He couldn’t see any other possibility, so shrugged the thought away in favour of concentrating on the need to respond to the incredibly patient man on the other end of the phone. He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together enough to respond adequately. 

“Mmmmhm. I see your thoughts and agree that it would be wise to take a day away from the site. Yes, I’m available to receive him. I presume he has been instructed to come to my suite?” He asked, biting back the slight edge to his voice beneath the sudden apprehension that was rising like a lump in his throat. 

“He has — and I can’t imagine he will be long before he arrives. I will call later to inform you when the tools have arrived and the subsequent requirements of your presence tomorrow.” Pikalov’s voice was light and friendly. The man was perceptive, incredibly so, and he had no doubt that he was transparent in his mood shift. 

“Very well, thank you Comrade. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you require any assistance,” he replied smoothly in lieu of a departing word. 

He could almost hear the smile in Pikalov’s voice. “Thank you, Comrade.” A pause. Thoughtful. “Take some time to rest.” Were Pikalov’s parting words, followed by the line going silent. 

He placed the phone back onto the base with a soft sigh. As if he would be able to get any rest whilst a seemingly endless plethora of thoughts were attacking him. It had been a few days since he’d been able to have more than a couple of hours sleep a night at best, and he was beginning to feel the strain. But he couldn’t get his mind to settle; thanks to the man who had unknowingly stolen his heart many weeks prior and had amplified such feelings by saying that he’d fallen in love with him. He’d been agonising over the ins and outs of the confession: was it said beneath the burden of their stress? Was it spur of the moment that he now regretted? His mind had yet to silence the topic and had reeled around the same possibilities a number of times and it was beginning to become more than a little draining. He’d begun to feel tired, restless, and exhausted from the weight of his emotions burdening his mind relentlessly, swamping every single thought in one way or another. He’d started to feel like a lovesick teenager and couldn’t shirk the feeling that he had, in fact, transformed into one. 

He paced anxiously whilst he awaited Valery’s imminent arrival, paying considerable attention to the tatty carpet. He couldn’t quite shirk the feeling that things were going to shift between them, perhaps so much so that they wouldn’t return to normal ever again - but he couldn’t decipher whether it was going to be  _ all _ bad. He’d considered that it might, despite the situation they found themselves in, end up being rather good as opposed to the existential dread he’d been overwhelmed with coming to fruition instead. He’d feared seeing Valery again in private, because he’d convinced himself that somehow he would withdraw the beautiful words he’d told him, redact the claims that he had fallen in love with him and instead say that he was under the effects of lack of sleep, or perhaps hysteria from radiation. He didn’t know the possibilities for the reasoning behind the redaction, but he had more than convinced himself that he would end up feeling as unloved as ever; yet another mistake when someone had been caught up in the moment. He’d learned throughout his many years that he was largely unlovable, extremely unappealing and so driven by his work that one couldn’t pursue a relationship with him — so why would Valery be any different? The man was intelligent, staggeringly so; and he had to be smarter than to pursue a relationship with  _ him _ . However; he was soon abruptly cut away from his detrimental thoughts by the sound of knuckles tapping against his door in such a light manner that he was able to detect the nerves behind the movement. He looked at the door sceptically, eyebrows arching upwards as if assessing the door. 

He gave himself a few moments to gather himself enough to face the younger man, attempting (however futile it may be) to compose himself so that he wouldn’t turn into a babbling, incoherent mess beneath his gaze. Valery had often had that effect on him, so why would now be any different? In fact, it would most likely be considerably worse and his heart was more than aware of how momentous the day was — and his mind had yet to stop reeling despite the moments taken in an attempt to pull himself together. They seemed to be mostly futile, and so he opened his mouth to instruct Valery to enter the room, swallowing deeply and audibly before he did. 

“Come in,” he responded smoothly, as indifferently as he could, but he felt entirely different to what his body would have him believe. The last thing he wanted was to demonstrate his emotions and leave himself open to be hurt — it had always been his worst fear and this moment was no different. 

The door opened, revealing a somewhat dishevelled Valery who looked as if he had been worked to the bone throughout the day: his tie was askew (more so than usual), his trousers had slipped down despite the presence of braces which, Boris assumed, were too loose to do anything remotely helpful, and his hair was in absolute disarray… But his heart accelerated impossibly more as he looked him over, enjoying the less put-together appearance of the younger man, finding it thoroughly attractive and infinitely adorable. As he looked him over he found himself absently wondering when the last time he’d actually got some adequate rest was (if ever whilst at this hellsite), whilst simultaneously attempting to figure out  _ how _ to make the man take a step back and have a long sleep to rejuvenate himself. He knew his body mustn’t be taking too kindly to the radiation as it was, let alone whilst running on fumes of sleep and a distinct diet of… precisely nothing, if the untouched plates beside him on any desk in which he worked at was anything to go by. It wasn’t without want of trying — he had tried time and time again to find something that might appeal to the younger man, something he might wish to graze upon whilst pouring over his notes. But nothing had seemed to call out to him. He’d even given him his own provisions, wondering if the slight difference between their food might tempt him but to no avail and it pained him to think that Valery was going through so much whilst ultimately failing to care for himself. He’d found himself on numerous occasions wishing to scoop him up in his arms and take care of him, because he detested the idea of watching him fall apart before his very eyes; becoming a shell of a man because he had given himself over to the State and to what needed to be done. Though he had a depth of admiration for him beyond conceivable truth, he couldn’t bear the idea that he might fade away if he didn’t take care of himself plentifully. 

“Hi, Boris,” Valery’s voice broke through the silence in the room, his voice shy and unusually quiet, as if it was tiptoeing throughout the tension already evident between them (or maybe it was just him feeling it?). He wasn’t normally one to keep his thoughts to himself and this had truly been one of the very few occasions in which he had - and he could say with full conviction that he didn’t care for it. He didn’t like shy Valery (as cute as he was), because it just didn’t feel right. 

“Hi, Valery,” he responded as jovially as he could, ignoring the slight pang of nerves in his gut. He still couldn’t shake the distinct fretting that he was about to lose a sliver of hope that he’d been clinging to with all of his might. 

He watched each carefully calculated movement of the man in front of him, taking intense interest in the way he moved from the doorway to the large sofas in the corner of the room, dropping down onto one with an elongated huff, reaching to the side of him to untuck his suit jacket, pulling it around to cover his front a little more. He dropped his hands atop his lap, then, entwining his fingers together in a strong clasp, shuffling as if to be searching for comfort. He remained where he was stood for only a moment more before realising he probably looked a little bizarre standing in the middle of the room whilst Valery had made himself at home and so, without further hesitation he crossed the room and sat on the sofa only one seat away, slumping into the seats in a bid to ease the tension between them. He had often found that the body language of others tended to have a rather significant effect on how comfortable he was in a room and hoped the same would apply for Valery, too.

The atmosphere between them was rarely awkward and only ever had been upon their first meeting after Valery had essentially yelled at Gorbachev that they couldn’t adjourn yet. He’d felt mortified, with a good sprinkling of anger atop that, and he felt supremely awkward and embarrassed to be left with the man after all of the committee members had departed from the room; but that was the first, and only time he’d ever felt truly  _ awkward  _ around him. Every other silence was easy, comfortable even, and the need to fill it was never present. Yet now it felt uncomfortable, strained, as if both were struggling for words to say - and he supposed they were; he knew  _ he _ certainly was. He could imagine what was cycling through Valery’s brilliant mind; worries of what Boris might say to him, trepidation perhaps, and a certain regard for his integrity. It was almost laughable considering what he had blurted to him a mere fortnight ago and  _ now _ he was worried about what he might possibly say. It was bizarre, but he understood for the most part despite how he wished it wasn’t the case. He understood what it was like to put yourself on the line for someone like that to not receive any word back, to be greeted with only silence, and completely understood  _ why _ he’d fled before he could gain a response — in his brilliant mind, undoubtedly, there was only outcome: purgatory. But in reality, if given the chance, Boris would’ve taken his lips with his own and returned his feelings with fervour, eagerness and an undeniable honesty, conviction and endless joy. 

He shuffled, antsy, in the seat as the silence continued to remain between them, the tension intensified somewhat by the prominent silence in the room. Neither of them spoke, and so it allowed Boris time to consider his options — either he could say nothing and let the situation pass with no recognition or he could simply play the same card back to Valery and admit his own feelings, thus causing the situation to come full circle and hopefully he wouldn’t end up alone and heartbroken by the end of the evening. Perhaps what was needed was brutal honesty in return, as opposed to a grand gesture or physical movement. Rather it might be a case of a remarkable need of simply knowing that he wasn’t alone in the feelings he’d admitted a fortnight ago. He considered this for a moment, his brows knitting together tightly in the centre of his forehead, accentuated by heavy lines across his soft skin. He had nothing to lose. 

“I think we ought to discuss what happened between us.” Boris said suddenly, tone sharp and unwavering, shattering the silence.

The expression on Valery’s face was absolutely priceless and were Boris feeling a little more charitable he might well have laughed at the sheer confusion that furrowed his brow in the centre, the downturned lips and the squinting eyes as if trying to decipher a deeply buried code. Whether it was a defense mechanism or he really hadn’t seen the significance of what had occurred between them a fortnight ago remained to be seen; but he sincerely hoped it was the former. His nightmares were quickly becoming a reality under the possibility that this might be a case of Valery choosing to redact his confession, instead stating it to be a spur of the moment thing that he regretted and desired to discuss no further and subsequently didn’t see it as a big deal. The thought made his heart weigh heavily in his chest, weighing him down with agony at the sheer consideration that he might lose the most prominent bond he’d formed in his entire life. He glanced down at the floor, momentarily losing his nerve; the anxiousness bubbling in his stomach beginning to get the better of him as small beads of sweat began to build up over his hairline. He’d never found himself in a situation such as this wherein he felt vulnerable; as if he was the only one likely to get hurt and he didn’t care for it. He knew, more than anything, that this situation needed to be rectified before it could manifest into anything else — and so he swallowed down the rapidly rising bile in his throat, suppressing his nerves with it, and spoke again.

“I think you ought to know what I’m referring to, don’t you?” He asked, daring to raise his gaze to the younger man across from him, glaring into those soft blues, losing himself in them for a moment. 

“I— I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He responded smoothly, though a slight tremor between his words completely betrayed the otherwise cool tone he had adopted, presumably intended to make him seem nonplussed. 

Silence flexed between them, the tension palpable and entirely malleable with bare hands. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and dismantle it, to screw it into a ball like a sodden piece of paper, discarding it with ease. But he couldn’t, not physically, and he knew he would have to rely on his words. He had never had a penchant for words, had never really managed to be casual and smooth-talking with his attempts to iron issues out instead favouring a stern, unyielding and oftentimes relentless approach which had, to date, never failed in giving him the results he required. But he knew that approach wasn’t the best option for the situation he unwillingly found himself in and was acutely aware that such a demeanour would only contribute further to the issue, so he had to conjure a way to combine the two into an amalgamation that might just penetrate the cleverly structured walls around the younger man. He shuffled as he considered his options, and quickly realised that mulling it over repeatedly wouldn’t be remotely beneficial to him and instead opted for outing with it instead, putting his cards on the table so to speak. He had never had an issue with being straight-talking, cutting straight to the point, and why should this be different? 

“You do, and I’m frankly tired of you skirting around the subject. I don’t think it’s fair for you to continue this charade.” He finally said, tone even, words unwavering despite the hammering of his heart beneath his broad chest, his breath frequently catching in his throat. He allowed a silence to grow between them once more, shivering beneath it as it remained there for a second, until he broke it with a nugget of truth that he hoped would make Valery see sense. “I don’t think it’s fair on me.” 

Valery seemed to consider his words for a few minutes, and then seemed to concede, shoulders slumping in defeat. He was thankful that at least he’d realised there was little to no point in trying to evade the topic any longer because it simply wouldn’t get him anywhere. When it came down to it, they needed to communicate with one another and regardless of the eventual outcome of the discussion they were inevitably going to have, they needed to bridge the wedge formed between them due to the confession enough to be able to function together; after all, they still had work to do and their personal life, especially of this nature, could not get between them. So either way, Boris knew he would have a relationship with Valery and that was comforting enough to soothe him for the time being — he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around it being as minimal as merely working together when necessary as opposed to spending every waking hour together (and often passing out in the same room, too). 

“I don’t want you to think badly of me, Boris.” Was the first thing he said, which caused his brows to furrow in the middle in a hardened frown, the corners of his lips pulling downwards. “I really don’t want you to think of me as repulsive or that you can’t work with me any longer. I’d hate that. I think that’s what made me run away from you in the first place because I thought you hated me. I thought you’d think me disgusting, abhorrent, that you might think me abnormal—”

“And you didn’t think to give me the chance to make that decision for myself instead of running away from me?” He didn’t have any anger in his tone, only incredulousness that such an intelligent mind could be so ridiculous. 

He was astounded that Valery could lose all sense of awareness when he wasn’t dealing with something as apparently straightforward as  _ science _ . He wasn’t angry with him, far from it, but he felt angry with the fact that he had been forced to consider his own feelings and allow them to the surface when he’d much rather have kept them in their own little box where they had been for some time, happily tucked away in comfort and warmth never to be brought up. He’d brought the feelings up only to have the accompanying hope smashed to smithereens before his very eyes, leaving him feeling a sorrow that he wasn’t accustomed to. His confession had given said box the key it needed to open up, strewing his deepest thoughts across the table for all to see and he hadn’t even had the decency to come and clean them up for him. It was an irrational anger, he knew as much, but he needed to direct the plethora of emotions  _ somewhere _ because he wasn’t quite ready to demonstrate just how much the sudden departure after such beautiful words had wounded him and just how much hearing those words had meant to him. He wasn’t ready to confront that reality, not yet, so he allowed the anger to simmer away in the pit of his stomach, a steadily rising inferno. 

“You’re right, Boris. I shouldn’t have put my own hang-ups onto you. It was unfair of me…” He watched the swallow descend in his throat, his large adam’s apple bobbing, the movement simple though entirely hypnotic. He’d never noticed it before — never permitted himself to — and now couldn’t refrain from noticing it. He mimicked the swallow, deep and audible, whilst shuffling to sit on the edge of the sofa, long legs bent up towards his torso. 

“I owe you an apology, Boris, for telling you that and not even giving you a chance to reply. The truth is that I never considered, in any capacity, that it could end well. I never imagined that you’d so much as want to know me after I’d let that slip. God knows I don’t know  _ why _ I felt it right to tell you then. I expected you to march me to the Party headquarters and have me imprisoned… I feel ridiculous for having considered it to even be a part of your character that you might pursue, but I can’t take it back now — I can only apologise for it. It’s just what I’ve been made to believe, that loving another man is wrong.” Valery paused, a pensive expression crossing his features. “I don’t regret telling you I love you. I regret running away from you.”

The words hung between them for some time, their meaning clear from the very moment they were said. The relief that washed through Boris was intense, all-consuming and occupied every single cell in his body, swimming around his mind rapidly. He couldn’t quite believe his ears; he’d been too convinced that he was going to redact his words, that he was going to lose the best chance he’d ever had at finding someone to love - at locating a strand of happiness in the seemingly hopeless situation they’d both found themselves in. A ray of hope amongst the constant cloud. He stared for a moment, entirely speechless and weighed down by what the words meant. He didn’t regret telling him he loved him — only regretted not hearing what he had to say back. 

“You shouldn’t have run away from me, you’re right, but I can’t deny that I understand why you would do that. I have done the same thing more times than I care to admit… Though admittedly not quite the situation to the letter but similar enough.” He allowed the words and their respective meaning to linger in the air for a moment, watching his expression as it changed from confusion to understanding with the blink of an eye. He wanted nothing more than to scoop the timid looking man into his arms and explain each and every one of his feelings, but he knew there were other things that needed to be addressed first. 

“W—?” The question was present, though the words certainly weren’t.

“I’ve been in the same position. I’ve pushed my hang-ups on someone else before because I thought that was for the best, only to realise later that it really wasn’t in my best interest - nor theirs. My hang-ups are exactly that. Mine. And your hang-ups belong to you only, and you needn’t push them onto me.” Boris paused, leaning forward a little more, placing his elbows against the tops of his thighs, intertwining his fingers and resting his head atop them, setting his gaze firmly on the man just by him.

“I know, I see that now… I’m just sorry if I made you think in any way that I didn’t mean what I said. I returned to my room and realised that you might misconstrue what my departure meant, but I was too cowardly to rectify it. I was frightened of what you might say. Not because you’re a bad person but simply because I’ve been conditioned to think that the only thing that could follow such an admission is…” Boris watched a deep shiver tremble through Valery’s body. “Well, you know.” 

Boris nodded, confirming that he needed no further explanation on what could happen. “I understand the fear, Valera.” He didn’t miss the look of sheer surprise that swept over the younger man’s features then, the not-so-subtle eyebrow raise causing him to smile.    
  
“I, too, have been subject to similar worries.” He kept his response as vague as he could, refusing to spell it out for him quite yet. He didn’t feel ready to say the words, to admit them, because it meant making himself vulnerable which wasn’t an activity he entered into easily. He didn’t care for opening himself up to people and allowing the possibility for pain into his heart, and so he found it difficult for the most part to admit how he was truly feeling despite how his entire being essentially yelled at him to do so. He had made it this far in the conversation and knew that he would be able to confess his deepest feelings when the time was right, and he’d know… Because the words would likely tumble from his lips without much consideration.

Valery’s brow furrowed and eyes narrowed as he seemed to turn his words over and over in his head, as if decoding them. He couldn’t resist a wry smile as he watched, as if there was an invisible calculation going on in his head that might show him what the words actually meant. He simply adored just how much this fantastically intelligent man missed the obvious - things that were staring him right in the eye. It was endearing, immensely so, and warmed his heart through and through. How could he have ever denied himself the knowledge that he was utterly in love with this man? How could one  _ not _ be in love with him?

“I’m not sure I understand…” He finally conceded, his words quiet with an undercurrent of confusion that seemed to wrap around them like vines.

“What I’m trying to say is that you aren’t alone in your feelings, Valery.” Boris responded, quirking a brow, dropping his hands from beneath his chin to rest atop his thighs, his posture slackening somewhat as the truth began to make itself known. He felt incredibly unable to keep his feelings in for much longer — seeing the infuriating man desperately trying to scramble some understanding of the meaning of Boris’s words had been the final nudge that he’d needed; that he couldn’t live without having this wonderful man.    
  
“You aren’t the only one with such inclinations, and if you’d have given me a chance to tell you…” He paused, taking a steadying breath inwards, exhaling it shakily. He repeated the action again, managing to claw some control back, and then began to speak once more. “I’d have told you that I, too, have always sought the affection of other men…” Another pause, only a second long but it seemed to linger for an eternity between them. “Particularly  _ you _ .”

His words seemed to hang in the air for a few minutes before any response came from the younger man, and even then all that tumbled from his lips was a small whimper. Despite himself he smiled at the sound, heart tugging almost painfully at the weight of it. He remained silent as Valery appeared to try and process what he’d said, and what it meant respectively, using the time to take some deep breaths, his chest vibrating deeply as he attempted to calm himself enough to be able to piece together the last of what he wanted to say. What he needed to say  _ had  _ to be said in the right way; and he would never forgive himself if he got it wrong. This moment had quickly rooted itself into his mind as being the most important event of his life… Because the man in front of him deserved the very best and he was more than determined to give him that.

“I love you, Valery.” He began, inhaling deeply after admitting it, feeling the weight of the truth lifting from his shoulders, leaving him unburdened. He hadn’t realised just how much the feelings he held for Valery had begun to weigh down his everyday happiness; had never considered just how deeply they ran for him, occupying the very veins in which his blood ran hot whenever he was around him. It had been an ever-present feeling, he realised suddenly, and had been unrelenting and had never refrained from growing each and every day in which they’d spent in one another’s company. “What I mean to say is that I’m  _ in love _ with you.” 

Valery’s immediate reaction, it seemed, was to gawp at him; eyes wide, mouth slack and a pronounced blush brushed across his cheeks. The reaction was instantaneous, giving Boris no doubt just what the words had meant to him; that the confession had taken tonnes of weight from both of their shoulders in astounding synchrony; leaving them both feeling the same relief and a sense of hope that neither had felt in some time. Chernobyl had the ability to do that to a man — it could strip you of every single ounce of joy, hope, and even take you back to what you’d become convinced was the worst time of your life and make it look like childsplay. Yet here they stood, amidst the seemingly endless chaos, finding hope - and love - in the most unlikely of places. He continued to stare at Valery’s expression, watching as it slowly began to contort into something that could only be perceived as barely disguised glee.    
  
Boris stood from his seat without further apprehension, abandoning the need to simply sit and stare at Valery to try and decipher his reaction in favour of closing the gap between them. The magnetic pull between had quickly become irresistible in light of his confession and he no longer had any remnants of desire to try and control the desperate wants of his heart. He had craved physical contact with him since he had first felt the electric shock billow across his heart, sweeping him off his feet unlike anyone else ever had before, leaving him breathless. He’d felt like a lovelorn teenager and had, truthfully, struggled to adjust to his own feelings which had left him endlessly longing to touch him, to kiss him, to spend time with him like two friends; perhaps more. He’d laid in bed on many a night desiring the simple contact: to communicate with him like regular people, confess the truths that lay in the depths of his heart, hold him tightly in his arms, brush his lips over those that he’d been tempted by so many times before, or perhaps simply fall asleep by his side. He’d imagined a plethora of different scenarios and he was, frankly, tired of depriving himself of such happiness in the grim environment that surrounded them, unwavering in its cruelty. He craved nothing more than to claw back a remnant of control; to take back some of the happiness that had been drained from him. 

Upon standing, he took a long stride forwards in the direction of Valery who looked like he might crumple into tears at any given moment and was steadily beginning to smile brighter and brighter as the words seemed to sink in, processing so that their full depth could be acknowledged and appreciated for what it truly meant for him - for  _ them.  _ He stood in front of Valery for a moment, looking down at him with a doting expression on his face, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips, accompanying the soft blush that had feathered over his cheeks and down his stubble-spattered neck, accompanying the already-present heat that had been building in his body since the conversation had started. Wordlessly, he held out a hand, shifting his gaze towards it to gesture that Valery should take it — which he did, without a moment's hesitation. Boris used this grip to pull him up to his feet, bringing them close together, placing his hands straight onto the swell of his hips, pressing his palms firmly against him. He faltered none in closing the gap between them, using his new grip on the ample hips beneath his fingertips to bring their torsos close enough that one couldn’t fit a mere sheet of paper between the two of them. Their overheating bodies pressed against one another and they stared into the other’s eyes, as if trying to delve deeply into the other’s soul to decipher what might be buried deeply in their minds despite that they’d already bared the deepest thoughts and desires of their souls and nothing was off-limits between the two. 

“I’m tired of waiting,” Boris whispered softly, his voice barely disturbing the comfortable silence that had surrounded them. “I’m tired of waiting for something positive to happen in this damn place…” he continued, slowly bowing his head, narrowing the gap between them gradually. “I’ve craved you since day one,” he admitted, his tone dropping a little to a sheepish murmur, though he continued to move his head forwards, his lips drawing closer; all the while his heart began to race even more than it had during the confession; he didn’t actually think his heart could hammer so heavily against his chest. But the closer he got, the harder his pulse became, stripping him of the ability to breathe easily; every other breath becoming caught in his chest, only to be released when forced. He was being utterly undone by this man and the simplest of functions were becoming a difficulty beneath the penetrative gaze that stared up at him, those divine blues glistening with a mixture of sheer joy and the unshed tears from mere moments ago.

It was Valery’s turn to speak, then, and when he did it came out as a tiny whisper; his breath barely reaching Boris’s face despite how near it was. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you…” He admitted, a bashful smile on his face. 

Boris’s hand rose just quickly enough to catch Valery’s head as it began to dip in a feeble attempt to hide his expression from him - as if he hadn’t already noticed the flush sweeping across his cheeks or the softness in his eyes. As if they hadn’t already bared their hearts and souls to one another; as if they had anything that remained a secret between the two of them now. His fingers hooked beneath his round chin, his thumb resting against the dimple, his index finger beneath his jaw, pushing it back up so that they were once more staring at one another. He remained wordless, allowing his body language to do the talking for him instead. He knew this moment needed no words.

The air crackled between them, akin to static electricity, heavy in the air between them, relentless and almost palpable as Boris finally closed the gap between them, finally pressing his lips against Valery’s with a tenderness unlike he’d ever experienced. The hand that had been fixed beneath his chin mere moments ago slid along the base of his jaw, following the defined line of it to brush over the heat of his cheek, eventually flattening out his palm to encompass the entirety; though his thumb began to idly stroke back and forth against the skin, feeling the supple softness beneath the coarse pad of his thumb. His thumb eventually stilled as the kiss was deepened, encouraged by Boris tilting his head to the left a little, allowing his lips to part atop the succulent lips that had moved to return the act of affection with fervour and eagerness in such quantities he’d long ago convinced himself he’d never experience — a feeling which would quickly become emphasised by the softness of Valery’s hands sliding down the length of Boris’s back from where they’d previously rested in the middle. They slid down to the small of his back, stilled for a moment and then slid back up until they were held firmly between his shoulder blades - the sensation sending a ripple down the length of his spine, causing him to shiver. Emotion swept over him like a tidal wave, then, and he was driven entirely by the vast amount of love that was coursing through him; and so he parted his lips a little wider, allowing his tongue to enter the sweetness of their kiss. Immediately Valery’s brushed against his own, and he could’ve sworn he’d died and gone to heaven in that very moment — his tongue felt unlike anything he’d ever imagined and tasted supremely sweet with a subtle note of tobacco still lingering on the very tip of his tongue. He revelled in each and every feature of his tongue as they twisted together, low moans vibrating into the kiss as they delved deeper into one another; the kiss soon becoming so deep that he needed  _ something _ to hold onto and so slid his hand to around the back of Valery’s head, entwining his fingers into the soft strands of hair, twisting them gently between his fingers in order to anchor them together a little firmer. 

It was only when the need to breathe became simply too much that he, with incredible reluctance, pulled away from the kiss. He didn’t withdraw entirely; instead opting to leave their lips close together. He couldn’t abide the idea of being further away from him than necessary and so he remained, holding him tightly, hand still in the back of his head whilst the other rested atop his hip. 

“I love you, Borja,” the sincerity in Valery’s voice took his breath away, the sheer love detectable in his words burrowing deeply into his heart; all the while his body succumbed to the soft touches that were being traced across his back until finally, his hands stilled at the base of his spine, fingers stretched out with a couple straying against the curve of his arse; a movement which heightened his desire for more than kisses with the tempting man before him.

“I love you, Valery,” he whispered back with equal softness, freeing his hands from his hair, slipping it down the back of his head to cup the back of his neck, holding him firmly.

“I’ve always loved you.” Valery whispered a moment later, his voice tender and full of conviction, his grip tightening, palms spreading out as if to try and cover more of his skin. Boris quickly mirrored the affectionate movement, spreading his own fingers out to be able to reach more of him. Now that he’d had a taste he was barely able to suppress the desire for more; and he’d certainly craved it for long enough (and he had no desire to resist).

“You have no idea how much…” he paused, brushing a chaste kiss against his love’s lips. “I needed to hear that.”

His words were met with a sweet kiss in response, his eyes closing before even fully able to register that Valery had stood on his tiptoes to close the small height difference between them, bringing them together in a passionate kiss, which they both sunk into eagerly, sweet moans mingling as it increased in depth as the night went on. Boris finally felt like he’d found happiness in his otherwise lonely life; that his heart had finally found the happy-ending he’d always yearned desperately for. 


End file.
